


Teeth

by GreatGawain



Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [15]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, Not Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain
Summary: Crack fic. Roger hyperfixates on teethI just want to say I'm sorry for this one and I hope nobody reads it HAHA
Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772323
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I want to be absolutely clear that I DID NOT COME UP WITH THE IDEA BEHIND THIS ONE. My friend on a PF Discord server asked me to do it and I initially declined but then I made the mistake of offering to write something for his birthday (which is today) and he dragged this concept back up. Please do not judge me based on this story lmao

“Heya, Rog.”  
David plopped himself down on the couch next to horchie boy and pulled his legs onto the cushions. He was a little unnerved to see Roger staring intently at his mouth when he looked back up, but brushed it aside. Probably another one of his _moods_ again.  
“Listen, can I borrow a fiver? I need to pay Emo back by tonight but I haven’t got-”  
“Say that again.”  
David blinked. “…What? Say what again?”  
“Say ‘fiver’ again.”  
“…Fiver?”

There it was, and the fact that he said it just a bit slower than the first time was even better. Roger took a mental picture of the sight of David’s incisors gripping his lower lip and studied it carefully in his head. Yes: very shiny, very smooth, very uniform. Not too heavy on the yellow tint, either. A decent set of chompers.  
Ten years passed before Roger noticed the growing look of confusion on his guitarist’s face and realized he needed to say something. “Uh, yeah, whatever. Just pay me back.”  
“’Course, thanks mate.” He stood to go but was pulled back down to the couch, much closer to Roger than he would have preferred, practically in his lap. “Excuse me.”  
“I have a question for you.”  
“…Ok?” David tried to inch himself away but his bassist’s hand was practically white knuckling his arm. Roger’s eyes still hadn’t left his mouth.  
“How often do you brush your teeth?”  
David scoffed. “If you’re trying to tell me my breath isn’t very fresh, you can just say it. You’ve thrown worse at me before.”  
Roger shook his head. “Honest question. Do you brush in the morning or evening?”  
“Uh, morning. Why?”  
“Do you use mouth rinse?”  
“Not usually…”  
“What about floss? Toothpicks? If you get something stuck in your teeth, do you try to fish it out with your tongue?” Roger was leaning in so closely now that his own mouth was now inches away. Like, single digits. Very close. David was extremely uncomfortable.  
“You’re being weird, Rog. I’m gonna go now and give Emo his money. I’ll… see you later?”  
Roger released his grip and leaned back, and David practically jumped off the couch. “Alright. Tell Emo I said hi.”  
“Yeah, will do.” David was practically halfway down the road already, shuddering at the strange interaction.

Once he was gone, Roger pulled a notebook and small pencil out of his back pocket. He opened it and after a few furtive glances around the room, quickly scribbled down some notes: _D – Good. Straight. Brushes in AM. No rinse._ He replaced the pencil and paper and returned his attention to the documentary about dental health on the television with intense focus. One down, two more to go.

Roger arrived at the studio the next day embarrassingly late, but merely muttered an apology without explanation. The rest of the band didn’t need to know that he’d spent far too much time examining his own teeth in the bathroom mirror before he lost track of time and nearly forgot entirely where he was getting ready to go. His mood was lifted, however, when he remembered that today he and his keyboardist were supposed to be working together on a song for the upcoming album. Well, as lifted as it could get when he was working with one of the people he disliked most. He supposed he could get through it, though, if it meant he could get a good look at his teeth.

After writing for hours, Richard sat back and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I need a break, care for tea?”  
 _Excellent._ “Sure. See if there’s any biscuits left, too.”  
He returned with a small plate of treats and the aforementioned tea, then wordlessly poured a cup for each of them. Roger frowned. This was going to be difficult with someone so quiet and introverted.  
“Ta, Rick.” He simply nodded in response and the bassist almost groaned audibly with frustration.  
“So,” he started, taking a sip of his beverage, “I’ve something to ask you.” Catboy lifted an eyebrow from behind his own teacup in invitation to the query. _Damn, the ONE time I want you to talk and you’re as shy as ever. I’m not a damn stranger, Rick._  
“How often do you go to the dentist?”  
The opposite brow joined its mate in an expression of surprise, but he pondered the question nonetheless. Finally, he set his cup and saucer down. “I don’t think I’ve been in a few years. Why, are you looking for one?”  
Roger nearly didn’t notice what he even said because he was trying so hard to get a glimpse of the kitten’s pearly whites. From what he could tell, they seemed rather crooked and small, but that was all he was able to glean. Finally, reality came back to him and he quickly formulated a response. “Er, no, I was just wondering if it might be time I get… uh… _this_ taken care of.” He hesitated a moment before he opened his mouth and pulled down the front of his lip, revealing the one incisor that was permanently pushed forward and stood out from the rest. It made him shudder the smallest bit: his own teeth, by his own infallible judgment, were nearly perfect in every way except for that bastard.

Richard nodded thoughtfully. “How did that happen, anyway? I don’t think you ever said.”  
“You don’t need to know,” he snapped back, but instantly regretted it because he realized that being mean to the sensitive cat man would just shut him up even more. He tried to gentle his tone going forward as he realized his best bet was probably going to come from trying to get him to smile. Richard simply shrugged the retaliation off anyway.  
Roger took another sip of tea. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it but haven’t committed yet. Wouldn’t want to scare you lot with such a drastic change in appearance.” Richard simply gave a small “heh” of amusement as Roger again felt his apprehension growing.  
“And besides, I couldn’t dethrone you for having the best smile of the four of us.”  
The kitty boy lifted his gaze in surprise. “Thanks,” he replied, and the corner of his mouth started to turn up. This was it! Finally! All it took was some fakey sweet talking to get him to open up – literally. As his face continued to turn up into a grin Roger almost felt bad for not complimenting him more often as it seemed to really affect him positively. Plus, maybe he would laugh more often and give him more opportunities to see his teeth.  
But that feeling instantly went away because, of course, Richard smiled at him with his _fucking_ mouth closed.  
What a piece of shit.

Roger rolled his eyes and slammed his cup down on the table, rattling the flatware as well as Richard’s nerves. “Alright, time to get back to work. Clear this shit while I get more paper to write on.”  
The keyboardist narrowed his eyes but didn’t speak as he quietly rose and collected the dishes. Horse man grumbled to himself as he procured the notebook again and wrote down more notes: _R – Small. Crowded. Crooked. Dentist rarely. Didn’t get good look._ He’d probably have to do some more sneaky observation over a longer period of time, most likely when David was in the room. That always seemed to put them in a good mood. Whatever. One more to go.

Roger was nervously pacing the floor in his flat while waiting for Nick to hurry the hell up and get there. If anybody was going to be cooperative, it was him. He flipped through the paper in his notebook to give his hands something to do that didn’t involve holding a cigarette until he was close to giving himself several paper cuts. He had finally decided to just go for the damn tobacco when he saw Nick’s car pulling up out front, and he excitedly shoved the book into his pocket on his way to the kitchen to pour some drinks.  
The opening door was music to his ears as the glass clinked against the metal ring on his finger. He greeted his rodent-faced drummer with a serving of brandy. “You know, I don’t recall giving you permission to just walk into my home without knocking, even if I _did_ invite you here.”  
The mustached man snorted. “You gave me permission when you got bloody fucked on wine and interrupted my supper to cry over the phone about-”  
“ALRIGHT, alright, never mind,” he interrupted. Nick flashed him a smirk (closed mouth) and they brought their drinks together in a toast. It surely wouldn’t be difficult at all to get a look at his teeth, as he was always cracking himself up with his own lame jokes, but it was just a matter of getting there without making it obvious that he was trying to examine his mouth.

“So, Nicholas, I need some advice.”  
“You mean you _don’t_ know everything?”  
Roger reached over to smack him on the head but the target dodged just in time. “Fuck off. Jude’s on a health binge and she’s decided that I’m going to get in the habit of flossing, but I never really worked it into my routine. Any thoughts?”  
Nick rolled the question around in his head for a beat. “What makes you think I do it either?”  
Roger’s eyes lit up. This was it! The perfect opportunity for him to make a witty comment. “Well, considering you meticulously groom that horseshoe on your face probably on the daily, I figured you out of any of us would have a better hold on personal hygiene.”  
Nick tossed his hair in dramatic flattery. “Ah, you are quite right about that. Well, personally I don’t use anything except for genuine angel hairs to maintain my dashing tooths.” He chuckled at himself, and Roger was awestruck.

They were lovely. Gorgeous. Profound. A bit crooked on the bottom, but who has perfectly straight bottom teeth anyway? And those FRONT TEETH! It was like talking to a human-sized chipmunk, they were so large and beautiful! Roger had to stop his jaw all but physically from dropping to the floor and he couldn’t look away. Such magnificence, truly. He had to see it again.  
“Yes, what a job it does for you. Show the audience again, won’t you?” he gushed, playing along with the bit but also thinly hiding his desperation.  
Nick smiled his biggest grin for him and this time Roger _did_ audibly gasp. They were. So perfect. He could have wept merely at the sight, but instead he whipped out his notebook and began writing furiously: _N – BEAUTIFUL. PERFECT. **BUCK TEETH.**_ He underlined the last words three times and was about to continue when Nick cleared his throat, startling him from his euphoria.

“Are you actually taking notes on dental care? I didn’t think you were all that serious on it.”  
Roger dropped the book and crawled over to Nick, stopping a hair’s width from his lips. They were even more beautiful up close! He was so envious of him it was almost physically painful to bear.  
“Nick, your- you have the most amazing set of teeth I’ve ever seen in my life! Everything about them is perfect, and those ones in front… I have to know, what do you do to keep them so fascinatingly _perfect?_ Tell me everything, don’t leave out any details. Is it regular dentist appointments? Bleaching? Fluoride? Brushing after every meal? Some kind of home remedy? I don’t care what it is, _please_ tell me the secret!”  
The squirrel boy sat pinned against the arm of Roger’s couch, eyes wide and trying to focus on the face in front of him that was so close he couldn’t even see it clearly. He brought a hand up between them and pushed him back away from him, then straightened himself and sighed. Roger was still very much fixated on his friend as his drummer ran a hand through his curls.  
“…Well, I guess I should say thanks, but I’m not really sure how to react to that? Um. I brush before bed, and sometimes if there’s something in my teeth I’ll floss, but other than that… I don’t really do anything special…” Nick was thoroughly confused as to what was happening, and why his bandmate was all of a sudden extremely obsessed with teeth, or what fucked up individual came up with the idea in the first place, but he tried not to fret about such things and decided the safest option was to just roll with it. Maybe if they got drunk enough, they could _both_ forget about this whole weird ordeal. He promptly downed the entire drink and got up to serve himself another.

It was at that exact moment that the phone rang, and Nick, now desperate to talk to anybody _but_ Roger, immediately announced “I’ll get it for you! No trouble!” He picked up the receiver before his host could object, and said man entered the room as he spoke.  
“Hello? Yes, yes he invited me here and we’re having a few drinks before catching that game in a bit. Why, what’s…? Emo? Oh. Lord, is he ok? …Oh no!”  
“Who the fuck is it? Don’t forget that’s _my_ phone you’re using,” Roger growled, but hushed himself lest Nick stop talking and allowing him to marvel at his incredible dentistry.  
“Uh huh. …Shit. Ok, ring Rog’s place again if you need us, and tell him we hope he’ll be alright. …Yeah. G’night.” Nick hung up and begrudgingly turned to face the Moai statue that was impatiently tapping his foot.  
“Well?”  
“It was Steve. Said Emo got in another pub fight and…” he hesitated for a moment as he remembered the conversation they’d just had prior to the call. “…Someone knocked a few of his teeth out.”  
As expected, Roger’s eyes flashed with excitement as he followed the capybara boy back into the living room. “Wow, pity for Emo, but… Nick, do you think they’d let me keep one or two of-”  
 _“NO,_ Rog! Christ, you can be so fucked in the head sometimes. Go turn on the telly while I get another drink; God knows I’m going to need it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow Roger I am so sorry I had to do that to you  
> Anyway like I said this fulfills a request: "roger is extremely obsessed with the other lads teeth and wont stop asking about their dental care habits as well as getting way too close while talking so he can look at their teeth and at maybe at some point somebody does something stupid and knocks out a tooth so roger asks to keep it"  
> AGAIN I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS PLOT I JUST WROTE THE STORY and Ruster if you're reading this you so owe me


End file.
